“He was: but failed.—I name him only to you.” “Certainly.—Unless he had been taken in the very act, or ye had witnesses—Well, well! Money makes a man dare awful things!” “Good friend,” she entreated, “not even Antek is to know of this!” “I am not one to talk at random, as you are aware. Moreover, ’tis easier to slay than to beget.—I knew the fellow for a knave, yet would never have suspected him of that.” “Oh, he sticks at naught: well do I know him.” The Voyt, arriving with the Soltys, then set to make a thorough search, questioning Yuzka carefully. “Were Koziol not in jail,” he muttered, “I should think it to be his deed.” “Hush, Peter,” the Soltys interrupted, nudging him; “there is his wife, just coming up.” “They must have been frightened away; nothing has been taken.” “We must notify the gendarmes, of course.... More work! Satan will not let a man rest, even in this holy time.” The Soltys bent down and picked up a bloodstained rod of iron. “It was with this Burek was done to death.” The thing passed from hand to hand. “It is one of those rods out of which they make tines.” “Perhaps stolen out of Michael’s forge.” “The forge has been closed ever since Good Friday!” “They may have stolen it and brought it hither: I, the Voyt, tell you so. The blacksmith is not at home: what’s to be done? This is no one’s business but mine—and the Soltys’!” He raised his voice and shouted at them to go home and not waste time to no purpose. Little as they cared for his blustering, it was now time for church; so the crowd melted away quickly, for parishioners from other villages were dropping in already, and the bridge was rumbling with carts. When all had gone, Bylitsa went out to the orchard, to look at his dog, talk to it softly, and try to coax it back to life. Hanka remained lying alone in bed, when everybody had gone to church, and the hut was empty. For a time she prayed and thought of Antek; then, the old man having taken the little ones out into the road, and all being very quiet, she fell fast asleep. Time slipped away, and she was still sleeping when, near noon, the sound of the organ playing and the people singing in unison came wafted on the breeze, and the bells tolling for the Elevation made the windows vibrate. What woke her at length was the noisy clatter of the wagons driven home at full speed along the road, past holes and ruts; for on Easter Monday it is the custom to try who will be first home after High Mass. It was a confused torrent of horses, carts and people, of whips rising and falling all the way, twinkling athwart the orchard-trees. They raced so furiously that she felt the cabin tremble, as the wind bore the clatter and the din of laughter to her ears.